


we keep this love in a photograph

by kay_emm_gee



Series: the kids aren't alright (The 100 tumblr prompts) [67]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Lazy Mornings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 06:44:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5446982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_emm_gee/pseuds/kay_emm_gee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Bellamy takes a truly horrendous picture of Clarke while she was sleeping which, naturally, she assumes is for blackmail but really he just thought she looked cute.</p>
<p>Summary: Clarke woke to the sound effect of a camera click and Bellamy swearing under this breath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we keep this love in a photograph

Clarke woke to the sound effect of a camera click and Bellamy swearing under this breath.

“Delete that,” she moaned, yanking the duvet over her head. Her hair stuck to the fabric, no doubt tangling the strands together even worse than her night of sleep had.

“No.”

Bellamy sounded way too pleased and not nearly sheepish enough, and Clarke wished she was awake enough to emerge from her cocoon and wrestle the phone away from him.

“Delete it,” she whined, clutching the covers tighter when he tried to tug them down. 

“Nope,” he repeated happily.

Then a warm, heavy weight bore down on her, and she groaned, wiggling to try to displace him from on top of her.

“Get off,” she complained, voice muffled as she pressed her face into her pillow. “I’m trying to sleep. Your nefarious blackmail scheme is interfering with my REM.”

“I made coffee.”

She paused for a minute, contemplating, before resuming her (admittedly half-hearted) struggle to push him off. He just laughed, the vibration from the sound passing through the layers of fabric separating them until it reverberated in Clarke’s chest, spreading warmth and grudging affection through her.

“Then go get me some,” she ordered, though sleep didn’t cloud her words as heavily now. She even managed to sound a bit happy about the prospect.

“Sit up first.”

“Get off of me first.”

With another chuckle and a brief full-body hug, he rolled to the side, letting Clarke claw her way to the surface. She glared pointedly at him when she emerged, but Bellamy just grinned, pecked a satisfied kiss to her lips, and then left to go get them coffee.

After he turned the corner, she realized he had left his phone out on the bed. Lunging for it, she tapped in his passcode–Octavia’s month and day of birth–and went straight to the photos. His collection of albums was already open, and she scanned the tiny images for the pattern of white and blonde that would be the photo taken only moments ago.

She finally found it tiled into an album marked ‘princess’, and she clicked on it to enter, though her thumb froze over the screen when she realized what it contained. There was the picture from their first date as an official couple, when they went to the pier, and he had painted ice cream all over her nose. There was also the one from her mother’s benefit gala last summer when she had snapped a post-closet-sex selfie when he had been looking for his suit coat to put back on and hide the lipstick marks she had left on his neck. There was the one of her holding his niece, her face scrunched up and her tongue stuck out as she made a funny face for the camera. A dozen more pictures of her, and sometimes both of them, over the last three years–some she remembered, and some that she didn’t–stretched up the screen, and her throat tightened with emotion, because she knew these were his favorites: favorite memories, favorite moments, favorite pictures. And there, at the bottom, was her from earlier this morning, asleep, contorted weirdly among their billowing white bedding, hair splayed messily, and drooling.

It had all the embarrassing requirements for blackmail, but now, as she considered the context, her cheeks were heating because of an entirely different, much fonder emotion. 

“Don’t delete it,” Bellamy pleaded from the doorway, balancing a plate of toast on one of the two coffee cups he was clutching. He looked so distraught that she almost laughed, but she managed to keep a straight face as she shrugged.

“Only because you got my good side,” she teased as he walked over, trading the phone for a mug.

He immediately slipped the phone into the pocket of his sweatpants, patting it as if for safekeeping, then crawled back into bed with her, tucking her into his side. Clarke wiggled in closer, sighing contentedly as she took a sip of her coffee, deciding to let him keep the photo.

There were worse things to wake up to in the morning, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr (kay-emm-gee)!


End file.
